


Spell Check

by LurkerNoLonger



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, POV Alternating, Pining, note passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LurkerNoLonger/pseuds/LurkerNoLonger
Summary: Finn is too busy crushing. Rae is too busy to notice. Mini uni AU.
Relationships: Rae Earl/Finn Nelson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Spell Check

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this quick fic by my phone auto-correcting me. So thanks, Apple.
> 
> I'm not sure how consistent I've been in my past works, so just to clarify for this story:  
\- denotes a passage of time  
* denotes a change in POV  
_Italicized_ words denote their written notes

Rae huffs a sigh when she finally slides into her chair. Glancing at the clock, she releases a relieved but tired breath that blows the hair out of her face when she sees she’s made it to class with time to spare. She had slept through her alarm, barely changed out of her pyjamas, and nearly swallowed her mouthwash in her rush to get out of the dorm. It’s just...uni is exhausting.

If she isn’t working on assignments, she’s studying, and if she isn’t studying she’s panicking about exams, and if she isn’t panicking...well, she’s always panicking, really. Much to her mates’ exasperation, that leaves little time for a social life. Rae can count on her one hand the amount of times this semester she’d joined in for a night at the pub, or even a meal at the chippy in town. With her major in journalism and music minor, her figurative plate was full. (And it’s not like she could eat from a literal plate in front of them anyway.)

This class is her favourite though, and she always makes extra effort to be on time. Not just because Introduction to Sound Recording is the gateway to making her musical dreams come true, but also because it happens to contain some of the fittest lads at uni.

One of which just slipped into the room and is making his way towards her.

She watches as he strides confidently in her direction, his built frame and smug smile drawing enough attention that it makes Rae squirm in her seat. Mr. Fit-As lifts his brows at her in question as he reaches for the chair next to hers. She’s about to tell him “yes, please sit close enough for me tell if you use Persil or Fairy in your washing” when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“’Scuse me mate, seats taken.”

The boy raises his hands in surrender and shoots Rae a shrug and a wink before going for another vacant table two rows ahead.

“Thanks a lot, Finn,” Rae grumps at him as he slides into the empty chair.

“What, did you really want to sit next to a bloke who styles his hair off Nick Carter?”

“Says the guy with the Gary Barlow fringe,” she snorts, pulling out her books as she sees the professor walk in.

“Oi! I’ll have you know this is much more Damon Albarn,” Finn corrects, pointing a finger towards his face. When Rae looks down at her binder, he tousles a hand through his hair adjusting it on his forehead, muttering grumpily under his breath, “Who I happen to know you _love_.”

“You what?” Rae asks, looking back at him from her paper.

“Nothin’.”

The professor starts the lecture and Rae puts all her focus into taking notes, scribbling wildly as he speaks. Next to her, Finn taps his pencil on the desk a few times before leaning closer, his forearms sliding towards her.

“Missed you last night,” he whispers. When Rae doesn’t answer he elaborates, “At the pub. S’like the sixth time this month you’ve not come out.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Rae replies without looking over at him.

“S’not. I’ve been keeping count.”

Rae glances at him briefly before looking back at the board to check she hadn’t missed anything in the half second distraction. “Well soz. Had a paper due.”

“You shoulda’ seen Chop. I got him to snort up a line of pepper ‘cause he kept going on about some bollocks about orgasms and -” Finn stops when Rae shoots him a disgruntled face.

She’d really like to pass this class and having Just-A-Fit-Friend Finn Nelson talk about orgasms directly into her ear is enough of a distraction to have her fail her entire course load. “Shhh! Finn, I’m trying to listen.”

Finn huffs and slouches back, resuming his pencil tapping.

*

It’s an hour later and class is nearly over, but all Finn has learned is that Rae has a stupidly cute concentration face. At one point he’d even jotted down details of it in the margin of his paper:

_Pursed lips_

_Scrunched nose_

_Forehead crinkle_

_One strand of hair that keeps falling in her face_

He was just about to describe the dimples her knuckles left whenever she flexed a cramp out of her writing hand, when Rae accidentally bumped his elbow and he had to snap his notebook shut so she wouldn’t see. She had given him a look suspicious enough that he didn’t dare reopen it, figuring his lack of note taking could be an excuse to meet up with her outside of class. The idea makes him smile.

It’s just...Christ, he likes her. Has liked her since he met her, and noticed her even before that.

First she was just the girl with the cool jacket who always wore headphones in the corridors. Or the girl who always seemed to be rolling her eyes and scoffing at the posh prick in class. The girl who debated more passionately – and aggressively – than anyone else in music history.

But then she was Archie’s revision mate called Rae, with arguments that made everyone think and jokes that made everyone laugh. Rae who took on anything with confidence, while seemingly handling everything in stride. Rae who, after only meeting him twice, noticed Finn was uncomfortable in group discussion and jumped in to save his awkward stuttering, agreeing with him and elaborating his point perfectly. Rae with her amazing taste in music that she reps on shirts that stretch across her more amazing rack. Rae who drank pints, and had eyes that changed colour in the shadows and the sunlight. Rae who somehow got on with Izzy and Chloe, while seamlessly bantering back and forth with Chop, all while keeping up with Arch’s cleverness. Rae who he thought about during every song of the mix she made him to take his mind off his nan’s funeral. Rae who missed parties to go home at weekends to spend time with her little sister. Rae who Finn always missed whenever she wasn’t around.

It’s another list he has secreted away in margins of multiple notebooks: _A__ll __t__he __R__easons Rae Earl is __B__rilliant._

Apparently all this thinking about how wonderful she is has taken over every one of his brain cells because he’s been unknowingly staring at her, and Rae shifts uncomfortably in her seat before nudging his arm again and telling him to pay attention. Finn coughs roughly to cover up his embarrassment but all that does is cause half the class to look back at him. He sinks a litter further down in his chair, his palm coming to rest on his cheek to cover the burning. At this height though, he can make out the scent of her shampoo and he needs to get out of here before his stupid brain sends a message to his stupid hand to stroke her stupid hair. God, he feels stupid.

Finn leans over a fraction, because even if he’s leaving early to avoid embarrassing himself in front of Rae, he still needs to say bye to her. But she’s turned away from him to rifle through her bag, and there’s only a few minutes left so he hastily scribbles a message on the edge of the open page of her binder before slipping out of the chair and the room.

_HAD TO RUN_

_C U SOON_

_FINN xx_

Had he looked back, he would have seen Rae bite her lip against a smile before drawing a squiggly box around the message, and going over his name and kisses in highlighter.

-

It’s a day later when he sees her next. He’s lounging in the courtyard with Chop, their abandoned course work scattered around them in the grass. Rae’s in a rush to get to her next class in the adjacent building, but she manages to float a folded sheet down onto his open textbook, shooting them a wave, before scurrying off.

“You’re dribbling, mate!” Chop announces, as Finn’s eyes follows her across the lawn. Chop manages to dodge the swipe Finn makes at his head, attempting to yell at Rae’s retreating figure, while Finn tackles him to the ground. “SLOW DOWN RAEMUNDO, FINNY HASN’T MEMORIZED YOUR ARSE YET!”

Luckily for Finn, Chop’s gob, as big as it is, isn’t loud enough to carry over the din of the other students. With a final shove to Chop’s stomach, Finn pushes himself off and up, immediately reaching for the paper. The page is full of Rae’s loopy scrawl, pretty just like her. An absurd thought, but maybe, honestly, he’s just ridiculously attracted to anything and everything Rae Earl. His eyes scan down the page of notes from yesterday’s class, smiling absently at the rushed slant of her font, before it lands on an addition crammed into the margin.

_Copied these in the library for you since you couldn’t be arsed to write your own. Can’t have you failing, Finnley. Repeating the class without me would be TERRIBLE._

Finn shakes his head, chuckling at her cheek and, even though he knows she’s out of sight, his head still turns towards the direction she’d gone. He agrees, anything without Rae _is_ terrible. Chop lobs a crumpled crisp packet at him, declaring that “Finn’s fallen arse over tit for some arse and tits!”, and then they’re rolling about again, Chop cinched in a headlock.

-

That’s how the notes start. Quick scribbles during class, addendums to course notes Finn conveniently forgets to take, album recommendations on the side of paper cups of tea he buys her. Once, a very realistic doodle by Rae of their least favourite professor on the inside of a chewing gum wrapper. (Finn pockets that one and, if asked, he’d be hard pressed to explain why a drawing of a 50 year old balding man permanently resides in his wallet.) They even have the odd game of noughts and crosses when Rae is feeling particularly distracted, though Finn could think of much better ways of swapping Xs and Os.

*

“Fill me in, then. What capers have I missed out on this time?” Rae asks, her cheek resting in her palm, elbow propped against the desk as she sips the brew that Finn brought her.

She’d missed another night out (“the ninth one!” Finn had informed her) in favour of a library session for a group project. They’d do this often, rehash the previous night over one cuppa. He always only bought one, said it was for her but would share it, taking occasional sips, his mouth drinking from where hers had been seconds before. She’d lick her lips and shiver at the thought that his would probably be just as warm and sweet. It was curiously intimate, but Rae never sassed him on it. Finn’s tea somehow always tasted best, anyway. Besides, these little catch ups have become her favourite part of the day.

“No wait, let me guess! Did Chop drink a bottle of vinegar to prove you can’t pickle organs? Oh no, I bet Izzy brought her tarot cards! Did she predict something ridiculous, like Chloe would either meet the love of her life _or_ get a hangnail? That would have set Archie off. He’d _ha__ve_ to detail every single appearance of them in history. I can hear him now. ‘The Italians coined the name after a French word meaning blah blah, but there’s evidence tarot cards date as far back as ancient Egypt.’” she imitates. “The swot.”

Finn laughs loudly at her antics. “How is your imaginary night better than what actually happened?” he asks through a broad grin, leaning more into her space. “But you got the swot thing right. It was mostly just Arch banging on about his psychology class. Summat about first impressions versus formed opinions. Then the lot of them started arguing over what they think they ‘look’ like to a stranger. Chop reckons everyone sees him as either ‘fit or a fight’, the bellend.” Finn finishes jovially with a shake of the head.

Rae laughs along with him before saying,“Go on, then. What do you think of when you look at me?”

Finn just stares back, the cup midway to his mouth, suddenly still. She watches his eyes roam her face, searching. His gaze snags on her mouth she thinks, and again on her eyes. Maybe it darts down to somewhere below her neck, but it’s too quick to catch.

Rae can feel her embarrassment leak into her face and chest, knows she’s bright red. Why did she ask him that? Of course anyone’s first impression of her would be negative. If they don’t immediately notice her, the swish-swishing of her rubbing thighs would draw attention soon enough, and then after that no one could look at a blob like her and have kind thoughts. She doesn’t need to hear what Finn thinks when he sees her taking up room at the table. She’s sure anything he could say would be in agreement with all her own terrible opinions of herself. Suddenly the lecture chairs feel too small.

They’ve both been silently watching each other, the moment stretching to discomfort when the professor walks in and greets the class. Rae shakes her head, turning away. “Forget it.”

*

Finn could punch himself in the face. That was it, the perfect moment and he’d let it slip. It’s just when she’d turned fully towards him as if presenting herself, that cheeky, brilliant smile on those perfect bow lips, something inside him cracked.

He’s speechless because how can he tell her that he’s always already thinking about her, whether she’s there to look at or not? Doesn’t think he can just come right out and say that what he thinks about is being able to look at her all the time; openly, without having to make up an excuse. That he’s rooted her in his head, a planted painful hope, wishing she was in his arms instead. What does he think of her? The world.

He taps a beat with his fingers absentmindedly, trying to figure out how he can salvage this opportunity, and in the corner of his eye he sees her tapping it back in sync with him.

“Hey Rae, I have my answer.”

“What?”

“I know what comes to mind when I look at you.”

Rae rolls her eyes, like the whole thing is a joke and she’s over it, but Finn’s not. This growing thing between them will never be over. He reaches towards her once dancing fingertips, dead set on holding her hand or _something_ but Rae pulls away, grabbing her pen instead. She hunches over her paper, and for a sad second Finn thinks maybe to her they’re nothing, but then she’s sliding the paper against his forearm for him to read what she’s written.

_Epic songs?_

Finn bites his lip while shaking his head, because of course Rae could fix his cock-up without even trying by giving him another perfect chance. She always made everything perfect. Decision made, he leans closer to whisper, “You spelt it wrong.”

Rae pulls her neck back, incredulous, probably thinking he’s completely lost the plot. He crosses out _songs_, his hand momentarily blocking his scribbling. When he moves she sees his correction.

_Epic <strike>songs?</strike> **SNOGS**_

_*_

Rae looks over at him astonished, sees his eyes still on the page as he gnaws on his thumb. He looks...nervous of all things. But then, what the hell must she look like? She sure does feel nervous. And ecstatic. And utterly confused at the bold and capitalization of it all.

Mostly though, she’s buoyant. This happy surprise filling her up until she’s lifted out of her corporeal self to watch from above. And from this vantage point it all looks different. She can clearly see Finn is sitting close enough for their thighs and arms to touch. Notices he’s wearing his favourite shirt of late, which happens to be the one she’d complimented a few weeks ago. Sees the pack of Wrigley’s he carries in her most (but his least) favourite flavour lying next to the bottle of Tipp-Ex he always has ready even though he only writes in pencil. Spies the last CD she’d suggested to him poking out of his messenger bag, nestled next to a mixtape, the only letters visible in the partially obscured title reading “_FOR R_”. It’s all the little things that she’d categorized under “just what friends do”, but now they look alarmingly less platonic.

She feels different from here too. Like this Rae sitting next to this impossibly perfect boy isn’t the same Rae who woke up this morning and couldn’t look in the mirror. Not the Rae who over thinks and over compensates. Not the Rae who feels lonely surrounded by people, hiding away to escape the ever chasing anxiety. Not the Rae who hates herself more than she hoped anyone could want her.

Instead she feels like a different girl; some pretty, light, likeable thing that Maybe-Not-Just-A-Fit-Friend Finn Nelson wants to snog. _Epically_! Can’t forget that detail. And she won’t. She’s going to have this paper laminated and superglue it to her diary to keep for the rest of her life. Because Finn thinks about kissing her, maybe as much as she thinks about kissing him. This can’t be real.

“I don’t believe you,” she admits shyly, still doubtful but smiling.

“I could show you, if you like,” Finn answers back with a raise of his brows, body angling towards her like he is completely ready and willing to snog her senseless right there in the middle of class. It’s cocky, and completely sexy, and not at all like the nervous Nelly who had just been biting his nails. It’s the Finn Nelson that all the girls whisper about, and it’s aimed at her.

Rae blushes and looks towards the front. She notices Finn deflate next to her, probably worried she’s opposed. Really though, she’s just trying to figure out how to write _YES_ as much as she means it without running out of ink. _How many exclamation points is too many?_ she wonders. Finn is still stiff next to her, maybe he’s even moved an inch or two away in her silence, so with a deep breath Rae closes the gap, her hand moving towards his instead of her pen on top of the desk. Her pinky lands next to his, then over, locking them together.

Apparently it’s enough of an answer, a physical yes with several exclamations, and she swears she can feel his smile all the way down to their fingers.

*

There’s no more notes after that. Their hands (and mouths) too busy touching to be distracted by words. That is until Finn decides to write the most important message; her bare shoulder his paper, a single finger his pen. It’s short, direct, only eight letters, and he definitely spells it right.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn’t get that, it was of course I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U because he does and they deserve to be happy. EFF YOU SEASON 3!
> 
> Also, in case you were confused, noughts and crosses is the British term for tic-tac-toe.
> 
> There have been some kind inquiries about the holiday fic I mentioned months ago, and I need to apologize because I don't think it will come out on time, if at all. Maybe one chapter? If I get the inspiration? But I don't like to post incomplete works, so let's just lean towards no expectations and be happily surprised if otherwise, okay?
> 
> I love you guys for reading. Thank you.


End file.
